Tender Loving Care
by alaricnomad
Summary: Peter/Claire. Set during 3.07. Claire plays nurse. ONESHOT.


**--Tender Loving Care—**

**A/N: Set during 3.07. Basically just crack! fic. Just my poor attempt at humor. **

Peter Petrelli had always considered himself a righteous man. His greatest ambition was to be a hero, after all. He tried his best to be noble and good, keep on the track of humility and morality. But as they say, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. And all of Peter's good intentions were flying out the window with his current predicament.

It had been a really crappy couple of weeks. First, he gets assaulted by his future self (who, by the way, was pretty much an asshole). Then he gets thrown into the body of a psychotic superhuman, whose ugly mug was nowhere near as good-looking as his own. He got stuck in a messed up future where he not only had to deal with a newfound brother (psychotic serial-killer turned Martha Stuart) but he was faced with a hot, leather-clad niece who wanted to cap him. So he's stuck with power that could drive him crazy, nearly kills his brother, mother and…brother, learned his father was not only alive but a homicidal megalomaniac, and didn't know whether "Gabriel" was bipolar or just fickle. The falling through a seven-story window thing wasn't all that pleasant, either.

Now, he had no powers, was bleeding all over himself, felt like shit, with his very hot, very off-limits niece, getting touchy-feely. It was like every guy's beautiful nurse fantasy come to life, but only she was ten years his junior, blood-related, and pissed at him. At least, that's what he thought.

He was so going to hell.

Speaking of which…those hands seemed to be inching lower with every cut or scrape Claire was tending to. He wasn't sure how rubbing his thigh was supposed to patch him up, but he really wasn't complaining. And when she teased a finger down his chest, circling a nipple and following down his happy trail, he didn't protest. When she brushed against the growing bulge in his jeans, he chalked it up to an accident. The third time it happened, though, he knew something was up, and when she reached for the button to his jeans, he acted.

His hand shot out, catching hers. He looked at her sternly and she stared right back, green eyes wide with innocence. "Claire, what are you doing?"

"There's a couple tears in your pants," she said simply, reaching again for his snap and zipper, "I wanna see how bad your legs are."

He cleared his throat, shifting away from her, "They're fine."

She arched an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

He nodded firmly. "I'm sure."

"Good." With that, she swung herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Claire!"

He yelped as she ground down against him, nipping at his throat. "Yes?"

"You really shouldn't-"

She cut off his words as she kissed him hard, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. He groaned and pressed harder against her. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. She drew back, rubbing against him again, and grinned down at his flushed, helpless expression.

"Didn't you just call N-"

"Don't mention him. I can't keep you rising to the occasion if you ruin the mood."

"Uh…"

She kissed him again.

"You were saying?"

"I have no idea." Her lips were back at his neck, fingers undoing his pants, and he really stopped thinking at all.

They were so caught up in each other, they didn't hear the door opening until a startled exclamation of, "WHAT THE HELL?!" broke through the air.

Peter jumped, attempting to pull away from his half-dressed niece, but with unusual physical strength, Claire resisted his squirming and held him back. "Do you mind, Nathan? We're kinda busy here."

In any other situation, the sight of his brother's jaw dropping would have been comical, but the fact he was nearly purple in the face with rage was nothing to laugh at. The blonde woman behind him put a hand on his arm, studying the incestuous rendezvous with cool appraisal. "We can see that."

Claire regarded her bio-father with unreadable wryness. "If it makes you feel better, just consider it a little TLC."

With a snap of her fingers, she was suddenly outfitted in a nursing uniform. She shifted on Peter's lap, consequently thrusting her low-cut bosom into his face. He found it hard not to drool, and speaking of _hard…_

"Peter?"

"Peter!"

He was suddenly snapped back to reality why the sound of Claire calling his name in a tone he definitely hadn't been hoping for. He blinked as he found his niece staring at him quizzically, seated next to him with a washcloth pressed against the wound on the side of his head. And unfortunately, fully clothed.

"Are you even listening? I asked you if anything else hurts."

Uncomfortably shifting to avoid the pain in his groin, he shook his head. "Nope. Nothing else."

He smiled sheepishly and inwardly groaned. "Nothing at all."

//Fin//


End file.
